The Canon Tour Tales
by mostly a lurker
Summary: Entries for The Canon Tour. For now, Pre-Twi & Twi Rounds. What goes on inside the mind of a fisherman? Charlie seeks the solitude and space of the Quillayute river system, unexpectedly encountering what could potentially be the best catch of his life.
1. Quite Some Time to Come

**A/N: This is my entry for the Pre-Twilight Round of The Canon Tour. Many thanks to Melolabel, SerendipitousMC, and SqueakyZorro who pinch hit and beta'd this for me. As usual Stephenie owns _Twilight, _I just love her vamps ;-)  
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**I recently won an Emerging Swan Award for _My Brother's Wife_ and I want to thank you for nominating and voting for me. It's my first ever award of this kind, and I'm still gobsmacked! Thanks!**

**Enough for now, more below. . . .**

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Carlisle was adrift with no shore in sight. The ocean of eternity stretched out before him as far as his eye could see. The world surrounding him was crude, rough, illiterate, and uneducated. Everyone he'd known as a human had died decades ago. It wasn't safe to mingle with humans, and others of his kind he found barbaric and repulsive. He was as alone as a man can be and still be alive.

It was a loneliness that ripped at his heart and tore at his soul, slowly destroying him with wails of lament.

_I _have_ to find something. . . there _must_ be _more_ to life than this barren existence! _Please_ Father, guide me. Reveal yourself to me in some way! I _need _companionship, a purpose. A _way_ to spend this existence _and_ use my knowledge in service to others. . . ._

He continued to pray fervently for help and guidance, as he was at his wit's end – not wanting to go on as he had but knowing death at his own hand was an impossibility.

This was not the first time he'd prayed such and would not be the last. His faith had been sorely tested as the decades had passed with no response, and this was his most impassioned prayer yet. He was completely desperate and it echoed in his heart, his mind, his soul as never before.

As dawn began to lighten the sky outside the chapel, he rose in silence and fled through the darkness of the surrounding woods to the small, damp cave he'd called home for nearly thirty years, to wait out the sun that would mark him for what he was – vampire.

— ✦✧✦ —

When the light of day faded from the sky, Carlisle rose and headed toward the nearest village, deciding that even _some_ closeness to others was better than another night alone. While he had recently tried studying at a university some distance away at night, before long, several people had become suspicious of him and he'd had to flee. He'd managed to slip away with a small handful of books, but they'd long since been committed to memory.

He was quite some distance from his abode, and the moon was high as he slipped into the outskirts of the small market town. He inhaled the odors of unwashed bodies, excrement, rotting produce, and animals that marked human habitation, while his ears heard the snorts and snores of deep sleep.

On his third breath, Carlisle caught a hint of something in the air and froze.

_Another. Another was near_.

This was dangerous and he immediately retreated to a nearby treetop, knowing they would scent him, too, but hoping they'd pass through and leave him be.

Before long, he heard voices in the distance – too low for human hearing, but as clear as if they stood at his side. They were upwind, moving quickly, and hadn't yet caught his scent in the air.

"I want to make this quick. I don't like being away from Alec," a high-pitched girl's voice whined.

"And I don't want to go back to face Aro without completing the task. Do you?" A deep male voice answered.

"No, of course not. I just don't want to linger, Felix."

"I have no more desire to remain outside the castle walls than you do, Jane." A third voice piped up.

"Ah, yes, Heidi waits for you, doesn't she?" Jane's voice was now cutting and cruel.

Carlisle became completely immobile. He was clearly outnumbered. At least three vampires traveled together, the largest group he'd encountered outside the city walls of London, his home from a lifetime ago.

Jane hissed just then. "Someone is here! I thought you said this way was clear, Demetri!"

"It must be someone I've not met. The tenor of this mind is unknown to me. . . ."

"Wait here, I'll flush them out."

A silence followed as Carlisle dared not even breathe. Suddenly, the tree he was hiding in began to shake violently. Carlisle looked down and saw the largest vampire he'd ever seen grasping the trunk as if it were a toy.

"Stop, please. I'm a man of peace."

The shaking stopped, but the giant did not remove his hands from the tree. "What is your business here?"

"I. . . I live nearby. . . ."

"You lie. No one lives anywhere for long and this territory is not claimed."

"I've. . . I've been here for nearly thirty years." he stuttered. "A few others have wandered this way, yes. I have avoided them. I'm sorry, I do not understand – what is it you mean by 'claimed?'"

"Thirty years is but a grain of salt in time. It is nothing. To remain, you must make your claim with the rulers of our kind."

"Rulers? But where? Whom? I have never heard of such a thing!"

"Blasphemous heretic! The Volturi are our ruling leaders." Felix's eyes narrowed. "Who is your maker? I demand to be presented to him at once!"

"I do not know my maker. I woke to this life alone and have been alone since that day. I have been lucky enough to avoid others of our kind until this very moment. They are barbarous. . . ."

"You speak as a man of letters. Come down immediately, or I shall bring you down myself."

"There is no need for violence, friend. I will climb down in peace, but I ask that from you as well. I mean no harm."

"Request granted."

Carlisle jumped down and landed softly a defensibly safe distance away.

"I am Carlisle of Wight, Clan of Cullen." He remained wary and tense, prepared for a fight, but he did not show this outwardly lest he provoke the other that was nearly twice his size.

"I am Felix of Brescia. Member of the Guard, 3rd Rank. What is your age?"

"I am not sure. In this life? Perhaps 40 years."

"You are still young then. I am over 500 years in this life. Do not test or tempt me if you value your life." He turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. "Jane, Demetri, it is safe now. Reveal yourselves."

Two shrouded figures appeared at his side. A tiny hooded form that barely reached Felix's waist stood to his left, and a taller, slimmer young man with his hood thrown back took the place on the giant's right. All three moved in unison closer to Carlisle.

"Your eyes are yellow. Explain this."

"I. . . what? My eyes are blue." Carlisle looked closer at the large man's face. "Your eyes are red. How has this come to be?"

"We are vampire, as are you. Our eyes are normal. Yours are not. No vampire has blue eyes. Have you not looked at your reflection in a looking glass or still waters?"

"No. Vanity is abhorrent to me, and I do not wish to see what I have become."

The small form shifted restlessly. "Felix, be done with your toy. I wish to move on."

"Will you join us and return to Volterra when our task is complete, or are you ready to meet the true death?"

"You give me poor choices with little knowledge. What and where is Volterra?"

"Volterra is our homeland and castle. It is a long distance east. I think my King would be most interested to meet you. He will know the reason for your strange eyes; he is a learned man." Both men were looking at him as if he were a newly discovered insect under a magnifying glass.

"Has he books and letters?"

"Yes, more than most universities; an extensive art collection, as well."

"Then yes, I would be most honored to journey with you."

"Let us go, then," the high female voice commanded, and they set off together at once.

— ✦✧✦ —

Before dawn, they reached a large town to the north, surrounding a castle. Skirting the town itself, their destination was a farm. The smell of human blood was thick in the air, but the Volturi members didn't hesitate or slow in their approach.

At the edge of the farmyard, they halted.

"Carlisle, remain here." Felix directed with a warning look.

"Demetri?" Jane asked.

"He is inside." The three moved closer to the hovel.

"Felix?"

The hulking vampire flung the farmhouse door open, ripping it from its hinges, disappeared and reappeared dragging something behind him before Carlisle had blinked once. Felix dropped a filthy, bedraggled creature clutching a baby to his lips at Jane's feet.

"Who is your maker?"

The vampire didn't stop drinking to answer. After only a few seconds of silence, he flung the baby from his grip and began shrieking in agony. As quickly as it began, it stopped.

"Speak, or there'll be more."

"John Lacy."

"Where is he? Did he not teach you our ways?"

"He. . . I. . . I killed him within a fortnight."

"Are there others?"

"No. I killed them all. They wanted what was mine." He began screaming and writhing again as Jane stepped back.

"Felix, be done with it. Demetri, clean up this mess." Jane returned to Carlisle's side and smiled angelically at him.

Felix reached down and lifted the wretch by the front of his neck, choking off his screams. While holding him aloft as he thrashed, Felix began tearing him apart joint by joint starting with his fingers. Each piece he tossed casually through the open doorway.

Demetri collected the various remains of an entire human family, pitching them haphazardly through the door as well.

Carlisle stood frozen in utter horror as he watched the two guardsmen indifferently complete their tasks. He abhorred violence of any kind, and it was clear that Jane and Felix enjoyed the terror and pain they inflicted on their victims. Carlisle hid his distaste carefully, lest he encounter the same fate.

Felix added several armloads of hay as Demetri set the house afire. An odd purple smoke and sweet smell rose into the air along with the odor of burning human flesh. As soon as the pyre was reduced to smoldering ash, the four began the return trip to Volterra as quickly as their feet would carry them.

There was no conversation, no witty banter. Only a word or two passed amongst them the entire journey. Before long, Carlisle realized that while they served together in this guard, they were not true friends, with few if any warm feelings between them.

_Perhaps it is not possible for there to be true friendship or love between our kind._ Carlisle shook his head to clear it of such unhappy thoughts and focused instead on his traveling companions.

The men clearly deferred to Jane on most matters as she was wont to use her gift at the drop of a hat to get her way. Jane and Demetri were subtly cowed by Felix's great size, strength, and speed, knowing he could kill them in less than the blink of an eye. Jane and Felix knew there was no place on Earth where Demetri could not find them. They were banded together by the unconscious fear of the power of each other and their unified commitment in service to the Volturi and all that that entailed.

Carlisle was utterly fascinated by their interactions and attitudes towards each other. He was looking forward to the reportedly refined company of others of his kind immensely, as well as the access to books and knowledge contained within the castle walls. But he shuddered to think of the violence he'd seen and hoped it was an anomaly.

Before he expected, there was a collective sigh as a walled city appeared before them through the trees, perched high upon a hilltop.

"Home." Jane breathed as she began running faster, still keeping to the shadows.

"Volterra?" Carlisle asked.

"Yes, the stronghold of our kind," Demetri answered.

The walls were burnished yellow in the fading daylight, the land around the citadel green and lush. The city gates were open and a flood of human activity flowed in and out.

"Humans live here?"

"Yes, of course. We must hide our existence at all cost. Humans provide a facade as well as a meal," Felix said.

"The Volturi have carefully cultivated the humans that reside here to be docile and comfortable with our presence. Our feedstock is culled from the surrounding lands," Jane added.

"We wish to keep the population stable as well as healthy and strong. Our people are grateful as there is no sickness or weakness in Volterra. We were untouched by the Black Death." Demetri preened slightly as he spoke.

"Impressive." Carlisle murmured, not knowing what else to say as they reached a side entrance into the city.

Here, the shadows were already deep, and they slipped undetected through the opening. The cobbled streets were narrow and empty of life, everyone apparently at the market in the city square.

Demetri led them through the winding streets to a latticed iron gate that was shut and locked tightly. Producing a key, he ushered them through the opening quickly before securing it behind them.

"I will go ahead and gather everyone in the receiving hall." Jane sped away before anyone could answer her.

His cloak fluttering behind him as he darted up a stone stairway in the opposite direction, Demetri departed without a word.

Felix sighed. "This way." He led Carlisle through yet another ancient stone passageway directly in front of them. Felix hunched over and wound his way swiftly through the low, arched tunnel. Their path was lit by just a few flaming sconces, and a pervasive dampness, which reeked of mold and mildew, filled Carlisle's senses.

They emerged from the crypt-like corridor into a well-lit hallway lined with beautiful tapestries and large paintings. The air here was drier, with little odor of dampness but a strong odor of blood.

Turning right, Felix stepped up to a monumental pair of doors that dwarfed even his giant size.

"The time has come. Are you ready?"

Carlisle could only nod before standing to his full height and straightening his shoulders.

The huge doors swung open silently at Felix's touch, and the grand receiving room came into view.

The walls were rounded, and it was clear this was one of the castle turrets. The archers' slits high up on the walls allowed the sun's last rays to penetrate the approaching darkness. Many torches around the walls and a chandelier overhead provided ample illumination.

Directly in front of them was a raised dais with three ornately carved thrones upon it; only the center one was occupied. A handful of faceless guards stood evenly spaced around the room.

Felix preceded Carlisle into the room, stopping several feet away from the edge of the rostrum and bowing his head before speaking.

"It is done, m'lord."

"Excellent, Felix. Jane has informed me that you did an exemplary job. Thank you for your service."

At the mention of her name, Jane appeared, accompanied by a boy only slightly larger than she. They assumed a protective stance to the right and behind the enthroned vampire.

"But who have we here?" The vampire's dark crimson eyes focused on Carlisle with intense curiosity.

"My Lord, King Aro Aurillac, please allow me to present to you Carlisle of Wight, clan of Cullen." Felix extended his arm with a flourish, and Carlisle bowed formally.

"Carlisle of Wight, what brings you to my castle?"

"I have heard that you have a vast library of books and art. I should like to study here if it please your Majesty."

"Come closer, boy. Jane tells me you are but forty years in this life. Is that correct?"

"Yes, m'lord."

"And that you've had no contact with others of our kind and know not your maker."

"That is true, your Majesty." Carlisle stepped up to the edge of the platform and finally braved making eye contact with the man before him.

"I see now what Jane told me about your unusual eyes. . . ." Aro trailed off as he reached out his hand and caressed Carlisle's cheek. He paused his movement briefly as his eyes bored into Carlisle's with an unsettling, piercing gaze.

"Ah, a simple answer, one that denies your true nature." Aro murmured to Carlisle. Looking up, he spoke to the room at large, "This man feeds from animals only. That is why his eyes are of golden hue. He carries no gift and is not a threat to our kind."

Turning to Felix he said, "Thank you for bringing Carlisle to us. He is a most intriguing specimen, and I look forward to a long and fruitful friendship." His lips curled into his version of a smile.

"Carlisle, you are welcome to stay here and study as long as you wish. I'm sorry, I have no place for you in my guard as you have no skill useful to me, so I cannot offer you the full benefits of membership. You and I will have frequent conversations to encourage your studies and entertain my mind. Our only rule here is there will be no feeding within the walls of the city outside of this room. Do you agree?"

"Yes, your Majesty. I am most grateful for your hospitality." Carlisle bowed his head once more.

Aro made a dismissive gesture as if this were nothing. "Helena?"

The most beautiful woman Carlisle had ever seen appeared from the same entranceway Jane had used earlier.

"Yes, sire?"

_Her voice is like that of a songbird, such an enchanting sound._

"Please see that our guest is settled in. I expect you to make him feel welcome and tend to his _every_ need." With the tone of his voice, Aro left no doubt as to the meaning of his words.

"As you wish, sire." She bowed deeply to the ancient one, and as her eyes shifted to Carlisle's, a seductive smile gently graced her lips.

_Hmmm. There are clearly many pleasures of mind _and_ body in this palace. I think I'll stay for quite some time to come. . . ._

_._

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><p><strong>AN: Hello again. Please stop by The Canon Tour's profile at /u/3041014/thecanontour to read the entries for subsequent rounds**_ (including mine!) _

**I am currently behind in review replies. Please accept my apologies. I _will_ get to them one day soon...**_  
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**Also, as some of you may know, I'm running a very personal fundraising campaign on my author's blog (http: / / mostlyalurker. blogspot. com/2011/08/mal-leo-need-your-help-for-their-hea. html **remove spaces**). It's not easy asking for assistance, and I'm doing my best. Please stop by when you can to see what's up, and I'd be _really_ grateful if you would consider spreading the word to forums, blogs, groups, facebook, and twitter if and when you visit those places. _Thank you!_ **_  
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	2. The Rivers of Forks

**A/N: This is my entry for the Twilight Round of The Canon Tour. Many thanks to LJ Summers, my beta extraordinaire. You've made me a better writer, and are an incredible friend. Thank you. As usual Stephenie owns _Twilight,_ Billy Burke owns Charlie ;-D**

**Important info at the end. . . . **

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Cool grey light, diffused by the misty fog clinging to the tree tops, spread over the cold dawn.

Quiet. Silence. Solitude.

_This __is __the __best __part__ of__ the__ day_.

He paused his actions to watch the sky brighten.

_Home_.

He sighed and shook his head slightly before lifting the rod and casting upstream.

_Beautiful_.

The line spun out, the float jig making a perfect arc in the air before dropping into the water at the very spot he'd intended. Carefully, he reeled the line in and then out again as the current carried the float downstream past him and into the holding water.

_Tension. Careful with the tension._

The float bobbed in the current. He waited.

Nothing. Still nothing.

_Hmmm.__ Sand__ shrimp __maybe_.

He reeled in the line. The bait was gone.

_Well, shit. Crafty devil. Coffee. Think._

Sitting down and leaning against a tree, he cracked open his thermos and sipped at the hot, black, bitter drink.

We-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b. We-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat. The distinctive sounds of a pileated woodpecker filled the air.

_Hello, old friend. Morning to you, too._

He raised his drink in acknowledgement before taking another sip. His eyes took in the pristine scene before him. Wide flowing stream. Cold, murky water. Old-growth, primeval forest. Fog turning into misty rain. Rocks and leaves, pine needles and cones. Moist, humid, green-dripping damp.

_Fish weather._

It was late February, and the native steelhead trout fishing was at its peak. The rivers surrounding Forks were dotted with heated drift boats holding experienced and novice fishermen alike, hoping for the holy grail of the 30 pound steelhead trophy catch.

Charlie snorted aloud just thinking about it. He was grateful for the tourism dollars these anglers brought to the town, especially since the timber industry had all but dried up. And while they might share a love of the same sport, these were weekenders or guys on their yearly trek. They were clumsy and awkward, tangling their lines, hooking the bottom, frequently losing their rigs. It just wasn't in their bones like it was in his.

The beauty of the perfect cast. The chess match of line, bobber, and bait. Feeling the bottom of the river with a drift rig or suspended from the surface with a float. The perfect presentation, one that even the smartest fish couldn't resist. Patience and sensitivity needed in rod and fingers to feel the slightest nibble.

He sighed. It was an art form he'd spent his entire life learning and the more he learned, the more he discovered how much more there was to learn. Early on, he'd been lucky and there were several trophies stuffed and mounted on his walls. The freezer was full of fish, and Bella was already struggling to find new recipes for the fresh filets he regularly brought home.

Yet, he still came. He'd come every day all day long if he could. There was no talking here. Silence and stealth were highly regarded. A man could breathe here. Stretch out his limbs. Just be. No phones, no radios, or sirens. No husbands arguing with their wives or bored teens getting themselves in trouble. No petty theft, car accidents, and – most of all – no paperwork.

Just trees and leaves and green. Rocks and brush. He watched an ant crawl across his knee and wondered if maybe he was the ant crawling on someone else's knee.

_Too __deep_.

Shaking himself, he closed his thermos and rose. Lifting his face, he sniffed the air, breathing deeply and cataloging the scents he recognized. Carefully, he slipped to the water's edge and peered into its depths. Then he studied the far bank, checking the rise of the river, the height and depth.

_Not__ going __to__ hit __here__ today_.

He quietly packed up his tackle and headed upstream to another spot of holding water, one only he knew about – he knew Billy and Harry had their secret holes, too; all anglers did. Some they shared and some they didn't. It was an unspoken agreement, an unwritten rule.

Several places along his path, he slowed or paused to watch black-tailed deer, winter wrens, and Douglas squirrels chattering away and chasing each other. Once, he even pulled out his binoculars to check on a popular spotted owl nesting site. So many in town hated the birds, blaming them for the death of timbering, but Charlie had always had a soft spot for feathered creatures, and he was happy to see fresh activity; though, he didn't see the birds themselves.

This was a hunters' paradise, and Charlie used to love pursuing game, but the violence and death no longer sat comfortably on his shoulders. He fished and that was enough.

Reaching his honey hole, he inhaled a smooshed PB & J before unpacking his tackle. Again, he raised his face and sniffed the air. There was a slight breeze here, and the scents were slightly different, more conifer, less hardwood. He stealthily slipped to the river's edge downstream and studied the water carefully.

_Flowing well and high. A little murk. Eggs and a Spin-n-Glo. Chartreuse, I think. Drift rig._

Returning to his box, he reached for a different rod and swiftly made the needed changes to his rig. He smiled in satisfaction and nodded his head once before rising and hiding himself in the brush.

Charlie squinted, studying the upstream water flow and current. He noted several new branch snarls he didn't want to get tangled in, as well as how they were diverting the water in a new way.

_Should I switch to pencil lead?_

He pondered this a moment continuing to study the river.

_No. No, I'll stick with the slinky. Lotta rocks here. Can always change later._

His aim failed on his first cast, so he quickly reeled the line in.

_Don't wanna spook 'em._

His second cast was a thing of beauty, arcing over the water perfectly before the lead plummeted below the surface. Again, he maintained tension in his line with care and attention, reeling in and out as needed. This set-up allowed him to feel the bottom of the river in his fingertips; the discernment of the differences between those vibrations and a fish strike had taken him many years to perfect.

Keeping the line off the surface of the water, he watched as it slowly worked its way downstream past him into the small pool of holding water to his right. As soon as the slinky dropped over the edge of a submerged boulder into the deeper water, a fish struck hard, almost ripping the pole from his hands. Instinctively, Charlie jerked up and back, setting the single-point barbless hook.

_Game on! _

The line zinged out as the fish barreled upstream. Charlie thought he caught a silver flash in the water as the fish went by, but it was all happening so fast he couldn't be sure.

Quickly, he moved out of the brush and down into the river shallows as the line continued to play out.

_C'mon, c'mon. Turn, stop, or slow down. I'm spooling out, here._

Not knowing what else to do, he opened his bail on the spinning reel, and hoped for the best. Cutting the line wasn't an option – he'd never forgive himself for leaving a hook and sinker with a long line sunk in a fish. It would eventually snag and hold the fish in place, killing it.

The zinging abruptly stopped, the line loose in his hand. He snapped the bail shut.

_Did he. . . ._

His thought was interrupted by a sharp tug on the line, the tip bending toward the water. With steady, unrelenting pressure, Charlie began to slowly reel the fish in. He had to play the line in and out carefully, ever drawing the fish closer without pulling too hard and breaking the line or tearing the hook free. The danger of the line snagging was great this high up on the river.

_Feels like a big one._

As he battled the fish for supremacy, his focus narrowed. There was only the rod, reel and line in his hands, and the fish in the water at the other end. Everything else simply fell away. No cold. No damp. No sound but his breathing. No current pushing against his legs, no slippery rocks underfoot. Nothing but the two of them locked in a battle of wills and strength.

It was this, this rush, this primal battle that he loved. The mental game – the strategy and chess match of float and drift and plug and back-trolling – was a challenge, and he loved that, too, but that wasn't what drove him to rise long before dawn to be at the water's edge; that brought him back to the river time and again. Alone or with company. Fair weather or foul. No, it was the epic struggle of survival – the fish for its life, the man for food for his.

After 10 minutes or so of this back and forth fight, he finally got a his first good look at his opponent when the fish jumped and breached the surface of the water.

_Holy mackerel! Might be the biggest I've ever seen._

The muscles in his arms began to vibrate with fatigue, his shoulders and upper back ached from the strain. Legs tense and braced, holding him in place against the forces against him.

_Hope he gives out before I do._

The big fish jumped again, three times in quick succession, trying to free himself from the hook to no avail. Charlie could feel the pull against him lessen slightly, spurring him on and giving him a small energy boost.

A few more minutes, and the fish was suddenly before him in the water, finally docile, accepting its fate. Without removing the fish from the water, using a net, or even his hands, Charlie studied the fish that had almost bested him.

_Never seen one this size. Heard stories, but. . . . Must top 30 pounds. Got the fin, so he's a wild one. What a beauty. Magnificent._

They continued to observe each other as Charlie reached around and scratched the back of his head.

_Trophy fish for sure. Harry'll never believe me. Joe would love getting his hands on this one, even if just for stuffing and mounting. Publicity'd be good for tourism, big fish are always a draw._

His hand moved around and he scratched his cheek.

_Would be good eating, too. Filets big and thick enough to cook out. Easy to gut and clean. Nothing like fresh wild steelhead._

Unconsciously, his thumb and forefinger smoothed his moustache.

_Could just let him go. Pass on his genes and fish his sons and daughters, maybe catch him again next year. _

He pursed his lips as he considered his options. Reluctantly, he reached under his waders for his de-hooker and pulled the fish toward him. Charlie wanted equally to keep him, to eat him, and to let him go.

_Can__'__t__ have __it __all_.

It took several false starts and a near give-up before he finally slid the eye-hook down the line to the hook's bend and lifted up as he lowered the hand holding the line toward the water. The hook easily slipped free and Charlie sighed.

_Go on big man. You're free now. Go make me some more just like you. Best fish battle ever._

The fish hovered in the water before Charlie, briefly unaware it was free of hook and line. Another steelhead, smaller, flashed by in the deeper rapids to their right, and the big fish in front of Charlie suddenly darted away and was gone.

Charlie stood there in the river for quite some time watching the water flow toward him over the rocks and limbs and debris. So peaceful, quiet here. The long, complicated song of the Pacific Wren wafting on the breeze.

A leaf floated by, a raft for a lady bug.

It was dry now, though still overcast, and he estimated it to be around two in the afternoon.

_Pack it in or fish some more? Maybe some bass or brook trout?_

He rubbed his hand over his face before finally wading onto the riverbank. His stomach growled loudly and that decided him. Meticulously, he cleaned and packed away his tackle and gear. Before hiking back to the cruiser, he quickly ate his second, even more smashed peanut butter and jelly sandwich and finished the dregs of his coffee.

_Wonder what Bells is making for dinner? Something hot and hearty I hope. _

Turning his back on the river, he began the long trek through the forest. Rain began in earnest before he'd gone half a mile. It had been a cold, damp, grey day, the temperature hovering around 40 degrees.

The misty rain and fog softened and hid the edges of things. The only sounds were of the natural world around him, alive and vibrant with life, and now, the wind soughing in the trees.

The air was fresh and clean, but damp and humid, hard for some to breathe. The odors of rich, fertile soil, coniferous trees, moss, mold, and every damp thing hung in the air. Every thing was green, green, green as far as the eye could see.

For many, it was a damp, dreary place they were happy to visit but were grateful to leave, needing sunlight and warmth and dryness.

But this place, for Charlie, was home. He'd had one of the best days of his life today – and had been warmed by coffee, quiet, peaceful company, sunlight behind the clouds in the sky, and a worthy opponent. He didn't need blue skies and sunshine, crowds and culture and shopping.

He needed silence and solitude, space to move and room to breathe. Water and rocks and trees. Natural things. Slow things. Patient things. Yes, he'd missed his wife since the day she'd left, taking their daughter with her. Then he'd been unable to leave; needed here, he'd had to stay. But later, those responsibilities fulfilled, he could have left and followed Renée south, and as much as he'd wanted to, he knew he'd never be happy there just as Renée could never be happy here.

It was in his bones, his blood, and he could no more leave the rivers of Forks than he could stop breathing.

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There is a vast array of resources online about fishing the waters of the Olympic peninsula. It is a major sport fishing area of the continental US, especially for salmon and steelhead. Here are the links I found most useful in writing this story:

http: / /www. allwaysfishing. com/

http: / /www. birdweb. org/birdweb/

http: / /www. olympic. national-park. com/camping. htm#fish

http: / /www. olympic. national-park. com/info. htm

http: / /www. steelheader. net/steelhead/driftfishing. htm

http: / /www. steelheader. net/steelhead/float_fishing. htm

http: / /www. steelheaduniversity. com/Ask_the_Pros. html

http: / /wdfw. wa. gov/fishing/

.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

_**I'm up for author auction in The Fandom Gives Back!**_ **You only have until November 23rd at midnight EST to make a bid via the comments**. C'mon, you know you want me to write something just for you! (Please save me from Alby, she wants to make me write _slash_!)

My fundraiser was a smashing success thanks to all of you! _**We raised $7,202.16 in total!**_ 30 authors wrote for the compilation, with a final page count of 542 pages! It's been an amazing process from beginning to end, and there aren't enough words in the world to express my gratitude and thankfulness. I hope you'll continue to visit .com for continued updates, pictures, videos, posts by Leslie, and more.

In writing news, **Alby Mangroves** and I have ventured into a collaboration together. We're penning a story for **Beyond the Pale 2** entitled _A Crown of Asphodels_. **Our joint penname is Mal and Alby**, and you can find our collab profile here. We're still writing, so put **Mal and Alby** on author alert — we don't want you to miss out on all the good stuff! _**Public voting runs from November 28 - December 12th.**_

Currently, I have an entry in the **Season of Our Discontent Anonymous Angst Contest**. _**Public voting runs from November 25 - December 10th.**_ There are lots of wonderful angsty entries for your reading and voting delight!

Also, I will be entering each round of **The Canon Tour**. New Moon is coming up in December. Lots of good canon and slightly AU entries each time. I hope you read, vote, and enjoy!


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